Caged Birds
by CarolineKM
Summary: Eponine looked away and contemplated his words. Finally, she turned her eyes not back to him, but to the bird in the cage. "How do I know that I am not simply trading one cage for another?" When she met his gaze again, her eyes were troubled. "You do not," Enjolras said. "But as I also yearn for freedom, I can at least hope to offer you the companionship of a shared experience."
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One**_

"You'll be alright, Eponine."

At the sound of her name, the young woman looked up to meet the sympathetic gaze of her friend, the Lady Musichetta, in the looking glass. Her own reflection was almost unrecognizable – her normally olive skin was pale, her eyes unnaturally glassy from the spirits she'd consumed earlier, and her hair fell over her shoulders and down her back in thick, glossy waves. It was her wedding night, and she would rather be anywhere else, even the fires of Hell itself. She was resigned to her fate, though, and had decided long ago not to fight it.

"Will I?" Eponine shook her head and turned to Musichetta, raising her chin defiantly. "I have no reason to be afraid. He didn't seem particularly cruel, did he?"

"No," Musichetta agreed. "And he certainly was _not_ difficult to gaze upon."

"No."

Eponine thought back to her wedding that afternoon. Before stepping into the doors of the massive chapel, she had never laid eyes upon her intended, the Prince Antoine Enjolras. Like everyone else throughout neighboring kingdoms, she had heard stories of his bravery, strength, and handsome form; just last summer, Prince Antoine led his father's men in defeating the army of the Fiery Isles, a particularly vicious people from the North. In a war that only lasted two seasons, the prince and his army repelled the invasion and saved their kingdom of Corinth.

During their wedding and the reception that followed, Prince Antoine was courteous, but distant. When his eyes met hers during the ceremony, they were strikingly blue, but cold and wary. They barely spoke all evening, but when they did, his voice was carefully controlled and neutral. Eponine found she couldn't fault him for that; she was sure her mien matched his in every way. Though their guests enjoyed the feast and danced until well into the night, both Eponine and her groom stayed seated behind the head table, taking in the festivities in silence. They barely gave each other a second glance.

"He seemed as happy to marry me as I was to marry him," Eponine mused. "Do you not agree?"

Musichetta sighed and squeezed her hand. "I fear that was perfectly clear to everyone. You knew you would be married eventually, though, Eponine, and it could be worse."

"Yes," Eponine agreed. "It could be much worse." She squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of a knock on the door. "Are you sure it won't hurt too badly?"

"It will the first time, but it gets better quickly, I promise," Musichetta assured her.

Eponine tied the sash on her dressing gown and took a deep, steadying breath. Her husband stood on the other side of that door, ready to take what was owed to him on his wedding night, whether she felt ready or not. "Come in," she called.

Prince Antoine and his close friend and adviser, Lord Combeferre, entered promptly. Musichetta gave her hand one last squeeze and made to leave the room when the prince held up his hand to stop her.

"Please, I would rather you stay and hear this so I have two witnesses," he began. Eponine raised her brow in confusion and exchanged a quick glance with Musichetta. "I am sorry, Princess Eponine, but as I intend to have our marriage nullified, I will not be staying in your chambers tonight." The prince's cheeks colored, but he held her gaze steadily.

Eponine's mouth fell open in shock. "I…excuse me?"

"Did you wish to marry me, Your Highness?"

Eponine closed her mouth, thinking fast and trying desperately to figure out his game. This was a turn of events she had _not_ anticipated. "Our union came as…a surprise," she said slowly, searching for the right words, "but it was not unwelcome."

She was used to lying through her teeth.

"I regret to inform you, then, that it was on my part," the prince said matter-of-factly and clearly with no regard for her feelings. Lord Combeferre winced and looked as if he desperately wanted to stifle the words coming from his friend's mouth, but he stayed silent.

Eponine was floored. Her head spun and she feared if she didn't sit down soon she would collapse into a heap on the floor. "How…but…if you felt this strongly, why did you allow it to already happen?!"

Prince Antoine ran a hand through his dirty blonde curls in agitation. "I _am_ sorry that I was unable to stop today's events from happening altogether, believe me, but my father…is difficult. I will not, however, consummate our marriage and take away your chances for a successful union in the future. We have two witnesses to verify this conversation and I ask that your Lady stay with you all night to attest to the fact that I will not return to these chambers. I will begin to work on the nullification of our union in the morning and you will be sent back to your father within the week. Do you have any questions?" His color was still high, but other than that small signal, everything about the Prince suggested a calm, collected mind, including his matter-of-fact speech. It seemed he had thought this through, as baffling as it was to her.

"Why?" Eponine asked quietly, as she cocked her head to the side and studied him intently. In the myriad of reports about the young prince that she had heard over the years, nothing suggested he would ever do something this odd or rebellious.

His eyes softened a moment, but then he shrugged and turned away towards the door. "I will not allow my free will to be stolen from me. Ever."

And with that, he was gone, leaving confusion in his wake.

* * *

Eponine sat awake all night, panic steadily rising within her. Surely the prince was crazy – nullification and proof of no consummation or no, this would surely ruin her. No one would ever have her after this, and she was her father's only chance to win the kingdom of Corinth. He had made her responsibilities _perfectly_ clear, and she feared not only for her safety, but that of her dear sister if she returned to Montfermeil in such disgrace. Her father would never forgive her, and the surest way to punish Eponine would be to punish her sister.

In the morning, after only an hour of fitful sleep, Eponine and Musichetta awoke to another knock on the door. Judging by the faint light seeping in through the curtains, it was still very early, just after sunrise. Musichetta opened the door at Eponine's urging, and was surprised to see another of the prince's friends, Captain Renè Courfeyrac, enter the room.

He bowed as Musichetta shut the door behind him, and looked at them both with an apologetic smile. "Your Highness, I apologize for the intrusion." Eponine nodded and waited for him to go on. "I wanted to reassure you that Lord Combeferre and I have talked our dear prince out of doing anything drastic."

Eponine sat down heavily in a chair and crossed her arms. "In all the stories I've heard about Prince Antoine, I never suspected he would behave in such a manner. What in the world is happening?" she asked, exasperated.

Captain Courfeyrac sighed and said sincerely, "He is a good man; that I can promise you. He would lay down his life for any of his friends and the people of this kingdom; however, he…" Courfeyrac hesitated, then said carefully, "He has his own mind, and often clashes with orders from his father. In this instance, though, he seems to have forgotten that his choices concern more than just him."

"I cannot return home," Eponine said emphatically. "He _must_ know that! No one, not even a queen, could survive a scandal such as this."

"I understand, Your Highness. Believe me, Lord Combeferre and I helped him understand that what he wants is impossible. Not now that he has gone through with the marriage."

"What will he do?"

"I'm not sure." Captain Courfeyrac glanced at Musichetta, who was trying to make it seem like she was busy straightening the covers on the bed. "He is sometimes unpredictable. I will send word later if the prince would like to speak with you."

Eponine nodded and looked away, signaling to Courfeyrac that it was time to take his leave. He closed the door with a soft click behind him, and Musichetta immediately gave up trying to look busy.

"Do you think that Prince Antoine is…not all there?" she asked, gesturing to her head.

"I have no idea," Eponine said faintly. "What in the world could his explanation possibly be for all of this? We are already _married_! If he felt so strongly against our union, then he should have never agreed to it."

Musichetta shook her head in disbelief. "There must be something else going on. What will you say to him?"

Eponine thought for a moment, frowning in confusion. "I suppose I should tell him the truth."

"Which is?"

Eponine shrugged. "That I didn't particularly want to marry him, either, but I always knew I had to marry _someone._ That I will be a faithful wife to him, and obedient…Isn't that what all men want to hear?"

"Something tells me that this man could be different."

Eponine wrung her hands as she stood and walked across the room to the large Eastern-facing windows. She opened the heavy curtains and looked out at the expanse of green trees and low, rolling hills before her. Beyond them, somewhere in the distance, was the sea. She had never seen it before.

"Eponine," Musichetta said suddenly. "What will you do today? People will know that you didn't…you know. Word will get around quickly."

Eponine turned, momentarily panicked again as she realized what Musichetta meant. "Because there's no blood," she whispered in realization. "They will look at the sheets."

Musichetta nodded. "If Captain Courfeyrac is mistaken about the prince changing his mind, this is further proof that could help him nullify your marriage. What will you do?"

Eponine silently stared at the bed, the wheels turning in her head as she rapidly assessed her situation. Finally, she said quietly, "Get my dagger. It's at the bottom of my trunk."

Musichetta nodded and did as Eponine asked, digging through the remaining items in the heavy trunk and finally emerging with the small silver dagger in hand. It was plain and unadorned, but always got the job done.

"How much blood should there be?" Eponine asked. "Obviously, I've not done this before."

"Not very much," Musichetta assured her.

Eponine nodded as she removed her dressing gown and carelessly tossed it over a chair. "I can't cut myself where anyone might see." She sat in the middle of the bed and pulled her chemise up while she unsheathed the dagger. "Here?" she asked, holding the dagger lightly against her inner thigh, a place where no one (not even her husband, she thought ruefully) would ever see the mark.

"I can do it instead of you, Eponine," Musichetta offered. "Please let me."

"No," Eponine said firmly. "Absolutely not, I will do it. Here?" she asked again.

Musichetta nodded. "But not too deep," she reminded, "remember there shouldn't be too much blood."

Eponine pressed the dagger into the soft flesh of her thigh, creating a shallow cut. She winced as the first trickle of blood appeared, and when she felt there was enough, gently pressed her leg against the sheets. "Will this do?"

Musichetta nodded, then handed her a rag to stop the bleeding. "If it comes down to it, it is now our word against theirs."

"Hopefully there will be no questions at all. Why would there be as long as they can see the evidence?" Eponine rummaged through her trunk again for something to wrap around her leg, then tossed the bloody cloth into the fire.

* * *

Musichetta dutifully removed the sheets and took them to the wash, where someone would be waiting to verify that they were indeed stained with her virgin blood. Halfway through the morning, another knock sounded on Eponine's door. She opened it to find the prince again, his expression stormy.

"Good morning, _husband,"_ Eponine greeted with a small sneer. She mock curtsied and closed the door behind him. "Did you sleep well?"

He turned to look at her, his jaw clenched. Dark circles underneath his eyes indicated his rest was as fitful as hers. "You didn't have to bloody the sheets. I had already changed my mind, just as Captain Courfeyrac told you."

"I needed more assurance than that," Eponine chided. "You know very well that your ill-conceived plans of yesterday would have ruined me. Or worse. You don't know my father."

The prince didn't respond, but turned and crossed to the windows, his back to her. "So we are stuck, then. Married."

"So it seems."

Eponine crossed the room and stood next to him. They both gazed silently out the window for several minutes. When she couldn't stand it anymore, she said hesitantly, "What will we do now?"

"What do you hope to gain from this marriage?" Prince Antoine asked bluntly as he turned to face her.

"Nothing," Eponine lied smoothly; although, she reflected, it wasn't truly a lie. _She_ didn't want anything. Her father did. "It is nothing more than a political alliance between our kingdoms. An assurance that we will help each other if the need ever arises."

"You have a brother."

"And a sister." Eponine swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. Just thinking of her siblings made her fight back tears.

Prince Antoine narrowed his eyes. "Ah…they are your weakness."

Eponine gaped. "My weakness? I think not. They are my strength." She straightened and glared at him. "I would do anything for them."

"Your sister is seldom seen, from what I hear." He practically ignored her words, and kept steering the conversation where he wanted it to go. "And when she is, people say she seems like nothing more than an overgrown child, though I hear she is considered the beauty in your family. Strange that your father didn't want her here in your place?"

"What are you trying to say, _Your Highness?"_ Eponine's hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her sister's safety and reputation were of utmost importance to her.

"Nothing. I just find it curious." He turned and surveyed the room, and when he turned back to her, his entire demeanor changed. He seemed almost apologetic. "Do not get comfortable in these chambers. My father made it clear that you are to be moved to the rooms connected to mine…apparently, so I can have you at my disposal whenever I choose."

Eponine's cheeks colored in embarrassment, anger, and resignation. Her body was not her own, that she knew, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. "As you wish. I am your wife, after all. I am here to give you an heir, am I not?" She couldn't keep the bitterness from her tone.

"If you can believe it," he said slowly, "I do not care a whit whether or not I ever have a son. Or daughter. So, rest assured that _that_ part of your marital duties will be quite easy to fulfill. I will not visit your bedchamber."

Eponine stared at him again, shocked and dismayed. She had no response; no man, let alone a future king, had ever expressed such sentiments to her. Not wanting an heir was unheard of. And if he truly felt what he just expressed, her job would be much, much more difficult.

"You will move this afternoon. Have your lady pack your things." The prince turned without waiting for a response and left the room. Eponine looked after him in a daze.

He was truly the strangest man she'd ever met.

* * *

 _Eponine stepped hesitantly into her father's dank and musty "panic room," as he called it. Hidden underneath the castle, even below the dungeons, it was a small, heavily reinforced space that was almost impossible to find. Only a few people knew of its existence, and now that the tunnel that connected it to the outside world, an escape passage that emerged miles away from the castle, was complete, it was her father's favorite place. If he ever needed to escape quickly, the odds were that no one would be able to stop him. In the years since he'd declared himself king, Thenardier's paranoia had only grown. He was a short-tempered, merciless tyrant, but still calculating and shrewd. A dangerous combination._

 _"Daughter," Thenardier said calmly as she closed the door behind her._

 _"Father." Eponine raised her eyebrows as she noticed her sister in the corner. Azelma seemed oblivious to the room's conditions – she sat happily in a chair, a piece of parchment on her lap and a short, stubby piece of charcoal in her hand. Her sketch was childish and smudged, but Azelma loved to draw._

 _"I have news that concerns you," Thenardier said with his typical sneer as he settled into the only other chair in the room. "I doubt you will welcome it, but you will do as I say, anyway. Won't you?"_

 _Eponine didn't answer, but waited for him to go on, all the while keeping her eyes on her sister._

 _"You're to be married."_

 _Eponine's heart hammered in her chest, but she tried very hard to seem unaffected by the news. Again, she didn't answer. Showing no emotion was the best way to get under her father's skin without outright provoking him._

 _"Make no mistake, Eponine," her father continued as he leaned forward, "you have a very important job to do for daddy now. And I'm trusting you. Do you deserve my trust?"_

 _Eponine nodded shortly._

 _"Good. And even if you don't trust me, well…" He gestured to the prettier Thenardier sister in the corner, the thick auburn curls in her hair still shiny even here. "She depends on you, doesn't she?"_

 _Eponine finally turned her eyes to her father. "What does my marrying have to do with Azelma? Why does this sound like a threat to her?"_

 _Thenardier smiled serenely and laid out his plans to his daughter. Over the years, he'd formed a friendly relationship with King Philippe I of Corinth, so much so that they contemplated for years whether to betroth their children. Since Prince Antoine proved himself a valiant, if foolish soldier, fighting alongside his men in last year's invasion, the king worried for the health of his only son. It was time for him to wed and produce another heir; a "spare," as Thenardier preferred to call it. And that is where Eponine came in._

 _Eponine narrowed her eyes at the end of her father's explanation. There were clearly details left out, reasons for choosing Corinth over anywhere else, and Eponine thought she suspected why. "Why not the Prince of Calormen in the East? He showed interest in me last year, did he not?"_

 _"Ah, but I couldn't bear to have my only…_ useful _…daughter so far away." Corinth bordered their own land – Eponine knew it would be easy to unite their boundaries. And besides that, not many other kings were friendly toward Thenardier; they feared men like him, men who led violent, criminal lives and murdered kings to take their power. It was wisest for most to stay steadily neutral._

 _"Why do you want Corinth?" Eponine asked, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "There are wealthier, larger places. And why do you need me to take it? Just do it, the way you took Montfermeil."_

 _Thenardier shook his head, but didn't bother explaining why. They both knew – he had squandered the wealth "inherited" when he overthrew the previous king of Montfermeil. He had men, quite a large army, but without money to fund a war effort, they would be repelled in an instant. Prince Antoine had already proven himself a skilled military leader, and Corinth had piles of money to spare._

 _"I will never succeed unless I take the kingdom from the inside. In other words, though there are many people I would trust more than you, dear daughter, I am afraid you are my best solution."_

 _Eponine swallowed and glanced at Azelma, wondering again why she was here. Azelma held up her drawing with a grin and Eponine managed a shaky smile in return._

" _What am I to do, then?" she asked._

 _"Be a faithful and obedient wife," Thenardier said firmly. "And give me an heir to the Corinthian throne. That is your only job."_

 _Eponine gritted her teeth. "And if I don't?"_

 _Thenardier gestured to Azelma. "Then you won't see your sister ever again. And there's no telling what husband will want her, damaged goods that she is."_

 _Her hands bunched into fists at her sides as Eponine took a step towards her father. "She cannot marry!" Eponine hissed. "There is too much she doesn't understand! Leave her out of this – I will do what you ask if you leave her alone and let her come with me."_

 _Thenardier shook his head and smiled as he leaned back in his chair. His posture and mannerisms suggested nothing amiss. He knew he was in complete control, and it made Eponine's blood boil._

 _"Oh, no. You know that isn't possible, Eponine. I_ will _throw you a bone, however, out of the kindness of my heart…Give me an heir within a year of your marriage, and I will allow your sister to come to you."_

 _Eponine considered his words, her jaw painfully clenched. There were so many factors to consider – her future husband, for example. She knew next to nothing about him. He could be a good man, someone she could ally with, tell the truth…or he could be horrible, like her own father. There was no telling._

 _"Fine," she whispered. "I will do as you ask. You swear you will allow her to come to me, and_ stay _with me, if I give birth to a son?"_

 _"I swear." Thenardier stood and offered his hand to his daughter. His grip was icy._

* * *

Enjolras left his wife's chambers in a worse mood than when he entered, and he didn't think that could be possible.

Marriage made his plans infinitely more complicated. He didn't want anyone else to get hurt in the long run, but being tied to him meant that Eponine surely would. It was a shame, considering she seemed like a perfectly nice girl. But, as Combeferre and Courfeyrac pointed out the night before, there was nothing to be done about it now. She was here, they were married, and his father had won this round.

Enjolras strode quickly to his father's council chambers and was admitted as soon as the guards saw him coming. His father was alone inside, and looked up as his son crossed the threshold.

"Good morning, son. I trust your wedding night left you satisfied?"

Enjolras clenched his jaw and clasped his hands behind his back to keep himself from launching across his father's desk to wring his neck. "Quite. You may release the idiot Pontmercy now. Or rather, send word to your goons to release him."

"Idiot?" His father chuckled. "For thinking so poorly of him, you certainly went to great lengths to ensure his safety."

"He is innocent," Enjolras said quietly. "I would have done the same for anyone. It astonishes me that _you_ are so desperate to control me that you would resort to kidnapping one of your loyal subjects to blackmail me into marriage. What would Pontmercy's grandfather say if he knew?"

"Oh, but he won't find out," the king said confidently. "I know you won't tell him."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at his father. He walked a fine line with him, and was never quite sure of how much the king knew. Or suspected. The elder Enjolras was a shrewd man, just like the younger, only less kind and more power hungry, which was why he had managed to hang on to the crown for so long.

"You will release him immediately," Enjolras said again, his voice icy.

"Are you afraid he'll talk?" his father taunted. "Reveal something you'd rather keep secret?"

"I have no secrets," Enjolras lied easily. "How could I when your spy network so easily keeps track of me?"

His father smiled serenely and looked back down at the papers before him. "Pontmercy will be released by nightfall. Is that all?"

With a clipped nod and no goodbye, Enjolras turned and left his father. Damn it all to hell – to save his friend, he'd sacrificed another's freedom. An innocent girl who was now his _wife._

The word left a sour taste in his mouth.

* * *

 _ **I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. If you did (or didn't), please drop a review and let me know. This is completely different from anything I've ever written before, so I'd love to have some feedback and hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading, and look for the next chapter in a few days.**_

 _ **-Caroline**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

She had been there for three weeks, and Eponine was no closer to answers now than on her first night as a married woman when Prince Antoine unceremoniously rejected her. He continued to avoid her chambers and Eponine's frustration only grew. Their only contact was in public, usually during meal times, and there were so many people around demanding his attention (and now hers), that it was impossible to question him. And the last thing she wanted was to cause a scene in front of the entire royal court.

At first, she and Musichetta thought it likely that the young man was in love with, and faithful to, another. If that was the case, Eponine mused, it would all be so simple. She'd only need to wait him out. Eventually he would be pressured into having a legitimate heir and would turn to her.

The more days that went by, however, and the more observant she became, made it perfectly clear that the prince didn't have, and _never_ had, feelings for a woman. There was enough gossip about him to keep her occupied for days, though the small snippets of personality she glimpsed through them painted a murky picture. He was still an enigma.

The days turned to weeks and though she was now on friendly terms with a few women at court, Musichetta was still the only person she trusted.

And lucky for _her_ , men easily trusted Musichetta.

Both women were intelligent creatures, and after careful observation of the prince's habits, it wasn't difficult to deduce his closest confidants. The group of young men he was usually seen with were obviously the people he trusted the most, probably even more than his own father. It took no observation at all to see the tension that hovered in the air around father and son. It was palpable whenever they were in the same room together. Plus, considering her own relationship to her father, she was quite attuned to that sort of thing.

Whatever her new husband was, Eponine concluded, he was nothing like King Philippe. (And that was probably fortunate, judging again by her own experience.)

"Which of his friends will be easiest for you to get close to?" Eponine asked as she paced the floor in her chambers. Moving always helped her think.

"The one named Bossuet," Musichetta replied confidently. "He has already shown interest in me. I believe I can make him trust me. He'll talk."

Eponine nodded. "If you think it's him, I trust you." She would have said Captain Courfeyrac, considering how often she saw him flirt with young women around the castle, but if Musichetta thought differently, then she wouldn't question her. "Any insight about the prince that you can gain will help. I don't know where to start."

"He is certainly making it difficult for you to get to know him at all. Hopefully his friends will be more forthcoming."

Eponine stopped her restless pacing and plucked the most recent letter from her father from the desk, which arrived only that afternoon. "I will never meet my father's demands at this rate," she groaned in frustration. "I will not give birth within a year and I will never see Azelma again." The letter crumbled easily in her hand and she tossed it into the fire, watching the edges of parchment curl into the angry flames.

"Do not despair yet. This is still new," Musichetta said soothingly. "Things could happen quickly if I find useful information. And you never know…that information alone could prove just as important to your father as an heir to the Corinthian throne could."

The thought of feeding her father information about the prince disgusted her. Sure, he clearly had little regard or use for her, and wasn't about to trust her anytime soon, but Prince Antoine seemed like a decent and commendable man, at least everyone here thought so. His friends were certainly many and loyal, and everyone at court seemed to revere him because of his bravery in battle. He was just strange and distant to her.

"I hope it will not come to that," she said quietly. "Whatever Prince Antoine is, he could never be worse than my father."

But still – she would do anything to save her sister.

* * *

 _"Azelma? Do you understand what I'm saying?" Eponine asked, gently taking her sister's chin in her hand and tilting her face up. "Please listen, darling. I'm trying to explain something to you."_

 _"Yes! You're getting married!" Azelma said with childlike glee. "That's why I'm making you this." She held up her daisy-chain with a grin. "You look pretty with flowers in your hair. You should wear them at your wedding."_

 _Eponine sighed and sat down next to her sister in the grass. "Yes, Azelma. I'm getting married. But that means I'm going away, far away, and I won't be here anymore."_

 _"Well I should come with you," Azelma said. "You'll be lonely without me."_

 _"I wish you could." Eponine reached over and squeezed Azelma's hand. "But Father won't let you. He says he needs you here too much."_

 _"Oh." Azelma frowned and looked down at her lap. She soon recovered, however, and looked up with a brilliant smile. She really was unfortunately beautiful. "What will you wear for your wedding, Eponine?"_

 _"I don't really know. A dress of some sort. I don't much care."_

 _"You should. On my wedding day, I want the most beautiful dress in the world…" Azelma continued to describe her own dream wedding with such happiness that it made Eponine's heart hurt. The only kind of man that would ever marry her sister was a cruel, greedy one who wanted nothing more than to use her. Eponine wanted nothing more than to protect her from that, and with each passing day it was more and more difficult._

 _"Azelma," she interrupted after a few minutes, "I'm going to speak with Gavroche. I just saw him sneak in." Eponine gave her sister's hand a squeeze and stood, hurrying to the large archway of the courtyard to call after her brother._

 _"Gavroche!"_

 _Her thirteen year old scamp of a brother stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. "Oy, 'Ponine! What?"_

 _She gestured for him to come closer and leaned against the stone wall to wait. "I've just told Azelma," she said quietly as he stopped near her._

 _"Oh." His usually joyful face fell and he scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot. "Did she understand?"_

 _"I'm not sure. She understands I'm getting married…but you know. She doesn't understand everything." Eponine sighed and tilted her head back to stare up at the blue expanse of sky above her._

 _Her poor sister, she mused. When Eponine was eleven and Azelma ten, they were both struck with a horrific fever, as were scores of others in their kingdom. Many, like herself, survived unscathed. Others died. And still others, like Azelma, were left with damage to the mind that wasn't visible from the outside. Now at eighteen, Azelma still acted and thought like the naïve, ten year old girl she used to be, before she got sick._

 _And that left her vulnerable. People would use her mercilessly, Eponine knew, unless she found a way to protect her. So far, she had, but now that her father was shipping her off to Corinth to marry Prince Antoine Enjolras, there was no telling what he would do to Azlema. Or who he might decide to make_ her _marry._

 _"Our merciful father, the King, won't let her go with you, huh?" Gavroche asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone._

 _"No," Eponine whispered. "Not until…well."_

 _Gavroche raised his eyebrows and waited for her to continue. "He said he would allow her to come to me once I give the prince an heir. A son. And if I don't within a year, that he would find a better use for her somewhere else."_

 _Gavroche was silent as he watched Azelma happily work on her flowers in the courtyard. Though he was only thirteen now, he felt protective of both his sisters and an enormous sense of responsibility lay on his shoulders. "I'll look after her here as much as I can."_

 _"I know," Eponine reassured him. "I know you will. But you also have to appease Father. You're_ his _heir."_

 _Gavroche turned to her and pulled a disgusted face. "I don't care about any of that. What would he do if I just decided one day I didn't want to do it?"_

 _"Shh. Don't let anyone hear you say things like that." Eponine glanced around furtively. "Besides, you_ should _want to be king, Gavroche. When father dies and you take the throne, you have a chance to change things for the better."_

 _"Unless that's also part of the old man's plan for you," Gavroche said quietly, worry in his eyes. "Maybe he does want to get rid of me altogether and make your kid his heir. Of both kingdoms."_

 _Because Eponine couldn't refute her brother's thoughts with any certainty, Eponine didn't say anything at all._

* * *

"Enjolras? Hello, Enjolras? Are you listening?"

Enjolras snapped to attention, though he wasn't sure how many times his name was called before he noticed. "Yes, sorry. I'm just preoccupied, but I'm listening. Go on."

Jehan Prouvaire, his father's court musician and his trusted friend, gave Enjolras a skeptical look, but continued. "I've received word from our contact in Picpus. Valjean is interested."

"The codes worked, then?" Enjolras asked quietly, and Jehan nodded. Only a few months prior, Jehan dreamed up the idea of sending correspondence through written song, with secret codes hidden in in the sheet music that only another musician could decipher. Since musicians across the kingdoms frequently shared compositions with each other, the method seemed safer than a regular letter and much less obvious.

Enjolras felt a brief thrill of triumph at the news, but didn't allow himself long to linger on the feeling. "Then I should compose another letter tonight and have it ready for you tomorrow, Jehan. You can send it as soon as you are ready."

Jehan nodded, but Enjolras caught a hesitant look thrown to Combeferre.

"What exactly are you asking of Valjean this time?" Bossuet, another of Enjolras' close friends, and undoubtedly the unluckiest of the bunch, asked.

Valjean, the Prime Minister of the Republic of Picpus, was one of Enjolras' idols. For nearly the last year, Enjolras had been in contact to try and secure his aid for the revolution Enjolras and his friends dreamed of leading in his own kingdom.

"We need to travel to Picpus – we are at an impasse here; we've attracted all the attention we can without being discovered. I must know for certain that the Republic will provide the support we need to carry out our plans," Enjolras answered. Just the thought sent a thrill of anticipation straight through his heart; traveling (in secret) to the shores of a real Republic, a place where only thirty years earlier a revolution succeeded in overthrowing the monarchy and establishing a democracy, was something he'd dreamed of since he was a young boy.

The rest of the rather sizable group, which consisted solely of young men like himself, was silent, a rarity for them. The only noise came from the group of patrons upstairs in the tavern who grew increasingly drunk by the minute, judging from the raucous songs and stomping of boots on the floor. This time Enjolras knew he wasn't imagining the hesitant looks that suddenly occupied his friends' faces. "What? Why are you all looking at me like that? Have I suddenly grown two heads?"

Combeferre, always the elected spokesman for the group when opposition to Enjolras needed to be voiced, said, "Are you sure this is the right time to start this and abdicate the throne? Things have changed, Enjolras."

A dark look entered Enjolras' eyes. "What exactly has changed? Have you all lost your minds? This is not the time for doubt, not when we've come so far!"

"You have a wife now, Enjolras," Combeferre reminded him. "A completely unexpected one. We know almost nothing about her besides what we know about her father, and you've handled the situation horribly. She may be a completely innocent victim."

"Whose life we may ruin if we continue on right now," Courfeyrac added. "That isn't to say we won't pick things back up, once we get to know her better. But I think we need to be cautious for a bit, see what game your father is playing by having you marry her. You know there must be a scheme involved."

"And you've all clearly talked amongst yourselves about this," Enjolras grumbled. He stared at the table in front of him, then reached over and grabbed the newly filled mug of ale in front of their resident drunkard, Grantaire. Just the mention of the young woman who currently occupied the rooms adjacent to his made him want to get drunk enough that he forgot his own name.

"Hey! That's mine!"

"I need it more than you right now." Enjolras took a large swig from the mug, and discovering it wasn't enough, tilted his head back and downed almost the entire concoction in a few deep swallows.

"Impressive," Grantaire conceded.

"So what would you have me do? With _her?"_ Enjolras emphasized.

"Get to know her," Courfeyrac urged.

"Her companion, the Lady Musichetta, is lovely," Bossuet offered, turning only the slightest tinge of pink. "She's friendly to me. There's no reason for the Princess Eponine not to be – according to Musichetta, she's wonderful, a very good friend."

Enjolras rolled his eyes at Bossuet. He was always a sucker for a beautiful woman. "How do I 'get to know her'? After the way I treated her, I'm sure she hates me."

Grantaire rolled his eyes and stretched, obviously giving up on the nap he'd tried to take in the corner. "Do you really believe she's happy to be here? Forced to marry someone who's treated her like scum and refused to go through with his marital duties, who barely gives her a second glance every day, and for the sake of this conversation, seems like a tyrant of a man?"

Enjolras bristled at the word 'tyrant,' exactly Grantaire's intended effect.

"Not to mention she has few friends here."

"As far as I'm concerned, she is an enemy," Enjolras said. "Her father murdered the king of Montfermeil twenty years ago and put himself on the throne. He has a reputation for being merciless, unkind, and greedy. The apple probably didn't fall far from the tree."

"Oh, because _that_ concept would certainly be foreign to you," Bossuet said sarcastically.

"Really, Enjolras. Of all people to make that statement, I thought you'd be the last. You're nothing like your father," Combeferre reminded him.

Enjolras scowled. He didn't feel like himself. He hadn't since he'd been forced into this marriage. And, unfortunately, he knew his friends were right. He should give Eponine a chance. She could become an ally, and who knew? Maybe she had contacts in her own kingdom that could help them.

The problem was, he didn't have the slightest idea how to treat a woman.

* * *

After searching the castle for nearly an hour, Enjolras finally came upon his wife in one of many of his father's prized gardens. He approached her quietly, unsure how to make his presence known, and awkwardly cleared his throat as a last resort. Eponine jumped and spun around, almost knocking the small bird cage off the table behind her in the process. Thanks to quick reflexes, Enjolras managed to reach out and steady it before the small, poor creature inside crashed to the ground.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Is that why you snuck up behind me without speaking?" Eponine said curtly. Her cheeks were red; it seemed like all he had managed to do since they met was embarrass or shame her, Enjolras reflected. He didn't feel like the same person around her.

Ignoring her remark, Enjolras bent down to peer through the wire bars of the cage. "Where did he come from?" A small yellow bird stared back at him. He was a pretty creature, though he seemed unfit for his current climate.

"It was a gift from your father," Eponine said quietly. "Although I feel rather sorry for it. I was just contemplating letting the poor thing go."

Enjolras looked around the garden. The hedges were neatly trimmed, the path packed tightly with small rocks, pebbles, and shells, and the flowers were in bloom. "That kind of bird isn't from here. He mostly likely wouldn't survive," he said sadly. It was a shame how wasteful his father was. Why would anyone have use for a pretty bird in a cage?

"Where is it from?"

"Calormen, I believe. My father has a taste for foreign things."

"That's very sad then." Eponine sat and turned the cage to better see the bird. It cocked its head at her, its fragile yellow body unable to do more than sit on its perch. There was no room for it to fly or spread its wings. "Should I keep it then?"

Enjolras was surprised that she'd ask him. "I don't know," he said slowly, and sat down on the other side of the table. "Would you like to keep it?"

"I feel sorry for it," Eponine said quietly. "I don't want it to die. But I don't want it to spend its life in a cage, either, with no other birds to keep it company." She shrugged her shoulders and finally looked up to meet his eyes. "I'll decide later. Did you want something?"

"Oh, uh…I just…" Enjolras swallowed and wiped his sweaty palms on his breeches. _'First you should apologize to her.'_ Combeferre's advice replayed in his mind and since Enjolras found himself at a loss for words, he decided to follow it. "I wanted to apologize. To you."

"Oh?" Her brown eyes regarded him with curiosity and perhaps a little amusement.

"Yes. I treated you poorly and for that I am sorry. I hope that we can make a fresh start."

"I am your wife."

Enjolras stared and took note of the sudden seriousness of her tone. Her gaze was level and unflinching, her dark eyes locked on his and her posture straight and strong. "I am aware…"

"Do you intend to treat me as your wife with this fresh start, or as your enemy? A friend? An acquaintance? Someone to only fill your bed? What are your intentions towards me?"

Enjolras squirmed uncomfortably, but had to admit a grudging respect at her straight-forwardness at the same time. He had a feeling he had pushed her to the limits of her patience with his previous behavior and thought that honesty, or as much honesty as he could offer until he knew her better, was his best option. "I am not sure of my intentions, Eponine…may I call you Eponine?" At her brief nod, he continued. "I am not the kind of man that gets involved with women; I have too many other things on my mind. I know I am not interested in romance, and marriage offers little appeal; however, as my good friends have recently reminded me, now that we are married, I am bound to you for…well, a long time."

"Presumably," Eponine muttered. She relaxed a bit and leaned back in her chair to wait for him to continue.

"I think it would be foolish of me to push you aside," Enjolras admitted. "While we may never harbor romantic feelings towards one another, perhaps we can become friends. Maybe even allies. It would be easier that way, wouldn't it?"

Eponine looked away and contemplated his words silently for several moments. Finally, she turned her eyes not back to him, but to the bird in the cage. "How do I know that I am not simply trading one cage for another?"

When she met his gaze again, her eyes were troubled.

"You do not," Enjolras said quietly. "But as I also yearn for freedom, I can at least hope to offer you the companionship of a shared experience."

* * *

 _ **Hello, again. Thank you so much to the two people that reviewed the last chapter. I very much appreciate it!**_

 _ **Like I said before, this type of story is unlike anything I've ever written. Grand experiment, I guess. If you're enjoying it at all, please review and let me know!**_

 _ **I'm also starting to post on tumblr - you can find me there at sweetcarolinekm . tumblr . com. Thank you for reading!**_

 _ **-Caroline**_


End file.
